Faction Song and Story of the Witches of Ryloth Social [CIS]

[Vanir Eris]

Vanir stood up wearily and nodded. He towered over her at a lean and lithe six foot eight. His clothing was loose and simple, but he was glad because he was feeling particularly over warm. Thankfully not warm enough to sweat, but he assumed it was a stress reaction and dismissed it. “I appreciate it, the more people I know the more I learn.”

There was a touch of humor in his voice now. Despite being soul-weary from the new event, he was starting to be more himself again. He lifted his eyes to the sky and drew in a deep breath, at least he didn’t feel so overwhelmed now. “There is still the ache from the claws of war… I hope that the land can recover as fast as the people…”

The discordant note made his heart ache and he looked unerring in the direction of where it was worse, even if he couldn’t see it. “I wonder now if my connection to the natural land beneath my feet, no matter the planet, has less to do with my sire’s blood and more my dam’s… Not something I ever considered to be either or till now, but this place, this moment, has given me much to think about.”

It also further served to feed his old resentment and anger at his father further. He would have been the one who would have known his mother more and he hadn’t at least bothered to throw his unwanted welp even a small bone. No. He sank into despair and mourned, forgetting the one being whom he should have loved who carried part of her. So many things he could have learned. So many things they could have shared. Instead it was wasted and now far out of reach.

His blue eyes reflected the fires and he shrugged off the pain, it wouldn’t serve his purposes now. No, he would have time for that later. He turned his attention back to the pale woman before him instead, he suspected there would be more things tonight to consider.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"The Agents of Chaos believed they sent a message by destroying the Altar of Spirits. They believe they have turned the Twi'lek against the Confederacy. There will be scars from this battle, and some may lash out," the Nightmother acknowledged, "but every intention they had will only backfire. Terrorism only works when the people surrender to their fear. Held true to one's beliefs, terrorism is counter-productive. If nothing else, people hold even tighter to their beliefs out of spite. It is not best to do so, but it is quite 'human.'"

"As for the land," Vytal paused with a small smile on her dark lips. "It has been here long before you and I, and has seen much. It will recover; and it will do so all the faster with our help."

Vytal reached out to take one of Vanir's hands. The green eyes were veiled for a moment as the Witch reached out into the Unseen. Little time passed before her eyes were revealed once more. "I believe you are right, Vanir. Come, then. This is your place, if you wish it. Your family." The Nightmother gently pulled on the man's limb to encourage him to his feet.

"Let me introduce you to my Sister, Pom. She has been away some time, but I feel there is a reason for her return. Perhaps then others will tear you away, glad a child of our blood and our ways has returned to us." There were many here, and while some might not understand at first once it became clear they would be more than accepting.

As for Sergei, a man that had little involvement with their number, they were be a bit more weary at first. After all, this was not a gathering for the people of the world. First Responders needed their own gathering, away from those in need or beset upon with gratitude. Yes, even the gratitude could become draining after a time with no time to simply forget -- even if for a moment. Yet, the warriors among them might see something in the man even though his appearance would be unknown to them. A weariness born from the struggle. So long as Sergei did not lash out there might be a place among the Mandragora gathered before the fire this night. Opportunity for the spirits to begin to heal his wounds as they would that of the Sisters and Brothers that had gathered.

Tag: Vanir Eris | The Monster | Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Vanir Eris]

Family. He had that, yet not. He couldn’t deny that he was hungry for it, he’d been without anyone whom shared any bond like that for a while. His hand closed on hers, though gently by reflex. Something about the gesture eased a bit of his pain. He just couldn't explain why. Frankly he was wondering why he seemed to gravitate to her, but for now it was all he could do else he might unravel. He still had many burdens he couldn’t share, but maybe with time he might. “I am honored to meet your sister. I cannot claim to know your ways Matron Noctura, even still whether I could even be kin, but the idea is appealing.”

Just because shades said so and she, didn’t give him enough proof to fully latch onto the idea. He certainly felt enough to give the idea considerable weight, but he wasn’t the sort to just accept something without better validation. “The proof would be in blood, even if say you and I had no relation, the genetic markers of a whole people would still be there. Even if diluted… However I have a feeling there would be reticence in allowing me to do such a test. I suspect there is much one would be wary over with the talents you and yours are rumored to possess.”

Blood had power among them, if the rumors of rituals involving it are true. However as before he made sure to let her know that he wasn’t quite sold on any of the things he heard about Dathomir and it’s people. There were more ways of practice and power in the galaxy than just what the Jedi and Sith are about and only fools believed their path was the only proper way. In his mind, there was no ‘proper’ just a way and many paths to get there. He was fully aware of his ignorance and also fully minded to see that ignorance lessened by education.

Eris wasn’t amused by the shades he awakened to, but if this was a legacy that he had unknowingly unlocked, so be it. To awaken to power is to either learn to use it or to be used by it and or its practitioners and he had no intention of allowing himself to be a puppet. If these beings proved to be a danger, he wasn’t alone and neither he nor Eris would let them steal what was theirs. “I would like when you or one of yours has time, to learn how to protect myself from the spirits. I have the distinct impression that to do otherwise would not be ideal.”

He had good instincts and heeded them, even if he didn’t fully understand it, he made a guess that if they were known so too could there be harm. Nothing new ever came without problems and if Eris could take control, what was to say these spirits might not be able to do the same or try? Finding out would be in his best interest.

Vytal Noctura

 

[The Monster]

Location: Nightlands festival
Objective: For the first time in almost 4 years, try to relax
Wearing: This
OOC note: He hasn't fully healed from damage during the battle, so his body is pretty scarred up.
Tags: Vytal Noctura , Rann Thress , Vanir Eris Open
​

Sergei would approach the edges of the smaller festival, though quite lively, with no regard for himself or his personal safety of the matter. Where someone else would view the surrounding people giving him odd, inquisitive or even slightly peeved looks, Sergei had no cares. If they were gonna throw him out, they would do so. Or kill him. Either way, Sergei had no armor, no weapons, and honestly no will to try and fight these people. His mind was currently occupied as it was being pulled in two hundred directions right now. Two hundred people he'd lost. Two hundred of the best trained and bravest souls he'd ever had the honor of meeting. Of training. Of fighting alongside. Two hundred of his company of just over two hundred and seventy. Gone. And once more Sergei had survived. Shrapnel, bombs, sonic and other weapons fire doing nothing to stop him. The Dire Wolf had not disappointed in his displays of strength and aggression in the battle for Ryloth. His scars were proof enough, a lot would never permanently heal just adding the myriad of wounds he'd accumulated. Even on his face the wounds were evident, and he didn't know if it was that or the fact that Sergei was so massive that most of the warriors left him alone. Sergei decided that he'd trot to a nearby drink stand, and looked at the man serving the drinks.

"You look a little out of place stranger,"

Sergei chuckled at that remark, and he would speak, the first time a civilian would have heard his voice outside of his suit in a while. It was actually smooth like velvet, and a deep bass, though the speakers on his helmet didn't really ever show that.

"I get that. Never really fit in anywhere before,"

"You looking for trouble?" He asked, he was holding a cup in his hand and cleaning it as he spoke.

Sergei sighed as he looked down for a minute and replied "To tell the truth, I've got plenty of woes already. I'll just get something to drink,"

"Alright then, what's your poison?" The, well Sergei figured he was a bartender, or bar keep, Sergei didn't really know what to call him

"I'll have some wa-," He stopped as he looked at the various drinks, wondering what all of that was "What...... what is that? Never mind I'll just have whatever that is,"

The man looked at Sergei with a quizzical look, pointing the casket that Sergei and mentioned, and Sergei nodded. He shrugged and poured him a drink passing him half of a cup of the brownish liquid. Sergei took a whiff and immediately recognized the ridiculous alcohol content, and shrugged, taking a swig. The burn on his tongue and throat caused him to gag and have a fit of coughing as he nearly spilled the cup. What did they put in this blasted stuff?!?!?! Sergei could get the faint sweet taste from the liquor and a cinnamon taste as well, but otherwise didn't really know what it was that he was drinking. He decided that it would probably be better to sip on this stuff, noting that it went much, much better than his first trip. The bartender had to stifle a laugh at Sergei's initial attempt to drink.

"So, what happened?"

Sergei sighed as he spoke. "A lot of good people died,"

The bartender leaned over as he had the look of a listener. "I mean, yeah that happens because of all the fighting that happened,"

"I lost almost everyone I've ever known and loved, and those I haven't buried are being scattered to the four winds," He said in a dead pan voice.

"My condolences man, do you mind me asking how?"

"It's a long story," Sergei was trying to dismiss the issue, he didn't want to relive that pain just now.

"Well as you can clearly see," The bartender spoke, gesturing at the rest of the party happening around him and how his stand was mostly empty. And clearly, Sergei needed someone to talk to "I think I've got nothing but time,"

Sergei definitely wasn't used to this. Opening up to others, especially someone he hardly knew. The Dire Wolf never once let his guard down around his unit. Ever. He was the spitting image of professionalism and charisma to his men. He was the guiding force, the father figure. He was their guide, their mentor. He went out of his way to ensure they never saw any weakness in him. Anything that might show that he was just as human as the rest of them. He'd set the bar impossibly high for himself and everyone else so that way he could ensure that his men could do the impossible. They could be the paragons of virtue and gods of war he'd trained them to be. And no where in that narrative, was him talking about his problems to someone else. He was supposed to be the strongest of the strong. The Wolf among men. The leader of the valiant Dire Wolves company who stood against any and all evil. And here he was, broken and alone, and now some random stranger was asking him what troubled him. Sergei didn't know how to respond. He didn't know what to do or say now. Up until this point he'd repressed everything, buried it all for the sake of the mission. But there was no mission anymore. Nothing to keep his mind focused. Nothing to hold back everything he'd repressed. He told himself to keep it together as the memories began washing over him again. The pain he'd endured and the guilt that came with surviving all of it. He took a larger swig of the stuff, noting the liquid didn't burn as much this time, and spoke as he passed the empty cup over.

"Keep this coming, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know,"

 

[Shamira Karuto]

.​

G A T H E R​

Location: Entering into the gathering
Time: Fashionably late as usual
Wearing: Typical purple robes
Tags: | Aries Creed | Nimue | Vanir Eris | Vytal Noctura | Pom Stych Tivé | Telula Vale | Haven | Julra Repraj | The Monster |

Research didn’t exactly have set work times.

It wasn’t like a day job in a cubicle. There weren’t set times when one would come in to study their subject, take samples, or look at data. Sometimes it took much, much longer than it should normally because mistakes were made, or sometimes it was much easier than expected and one was only working for a few hours. This train of thought was how Shamira justified the unending amount of hours she spent in Caer Badru, cultivating new plants and studying ones already planted there. There was so much to learn, and more new information popped up every single day. The witch’s need to gather that knowledge and figure out how to best use it lead to some very late nights, more often than not stretching into the early morning.

Viana and Vytal had voiced their concerns, among others. It wasn’t as though she meant to stay up to the hellish hours of the morning, sometimes the information flow was too good not to get caught up in it. Her first risen had worked out well enough during the horrible invasion of her home, yet they could be improved. She had new ideas, new designs to figure out before the conflict came back that there wasn’t much time to relax or take time for herself. That lack of relaxation was probably why there were a few accidents here or there, but no one had gotten hurt yet, so it was fine. Just a few broken beakers here and there.

There hadn’t been any accidents today. Just the studying of a new root that seemed like it might provide some tougher fibers than her current vine and moss mixture. But even this seemingly simple studying had whisked her time away, and by the time she looked up from her journal, there was the embarrassing realization that she was quite late to the gathering that the night was supposed to be about.

The redheaded witch quickly shifted, pushing her journal aside to stand, smooth out her robes, and head to the door that would lead her quickest back to the castle through whatever magic Vytal had imbued the castle with. Thankfully, Shamira had started to get used to the all the weird places the door could take one, and on her first try, she found herself walking into the middle of the gathering, giving a little ‘sorry’ wave in the direction of the Nightmother. Hopefully, now that she was here, she could find someone to tag along beside instead of being the late loner to the whole thing.

​

 

[Telula Vale]

Location: The gathering
Attire: [This]
Tags: | Open |

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The appearance of more and more people seemed to make Telula steadily more somber. Not in a depressed, shut off sort of way, but she most certainly was no longer bouncy nor did she flit back to the edge of the protective circle to peer into the darkness. Instead she had seated herself beside Kai, idly petting the beast as she quietly and curiously observed those who moved about around her. She naturally recognized quite a few faces, but that still wasn't enough to make her hop up and rush to join or intrude.

Though there was a gruff, rumbling sound from the Galek hound beside her when Shamira Karuto had appeared amongst the gathered. It drew Lula's attention, and she even smiled and offered a wave to the older witch, but otherwise she left well enough alone. The space with her and Kai was of course open to anyone, though she had only just considered the fact that perhaps the beast was off-putting. He was large, and despite his dopey appearance he was quite lethal. Perhaps she should have left him in her room...

"See what you've done now?" she groused teasingly at the hound beside her. "You've frightened everyone off. Be it from your looks, or from your stench." Which was not at all true; Lula was meticulous when it came to making sure Kai was clean, lest he get tossed outside due to smelling bad. "I suppose if I don't want to sit here all night with you that I should attempt to find someone to hide behind, hm?" despite this and the grin on her face, she didn't get up right away. One step at a time.

 

[Rann Thress]

Location: Festival
Wearing: this with a grey longsleeved undertunic beneath, a black leather elbow length glove covered his right arm.
Objective: Relax after the Founder's March battle.
Tags: The Monster

Rann stared at the Mandragora party from a distance.

A long distance.

His robotic arm served as a cautionary tale for these parties. As of yet he hadn't had a good experience on Ryloth at these types of jovial occasions. At the same time, however, Rann desperately sought a positive experience following the battle. He had hoped he could glean some emotional positivist from this gathering, even as far away as he was, sat on a CIS provided speeder. In his haste to arrive, however, he had forgotten to grab alcohol from elsewhere. He looked towards the party, towards the bar. There was his target. He hoped that no one would ask about him. He was sure he'd get some eyes, but he was used to that now. He glanced down to his robotic hand, hidden by a glove. He squeezed it, acutely aware of the lack of feeling in his new "hand". He dropped his hand and started walking towards the bar. He avoided gazes and held a determined walk as he bee-lined it for the bar.

As opposed to Valborg, Rann didn't care if people looked at him. He was sure it was paranoia. He was hardly the only person to have a prosthetic replacement. Probably hardly the only one to have a replacement here as well. It was kind of freeing. He didn't care anymore, he had a lot on his mind and being stared at wasn't. He saw a big man sitting at the Bar, talking to the Bartender. That'd work. Rann'd sit next to him, drink, and be left alone by other people.

Did this guy want to be left alone? Probably. But Rann liked his chances of this not being a scene. The man wasn't a nightsister, or a woman at all, so chances were good he'd like to not be involved in trouble. And Rann felt that together they stood more chance of being left alone by others. And, of course, the Bartender was with him. These things made sitting next to this man pretty strategically sound. And if need be, Rann thought, Rann could just KILL this man.
Rann blinked, and stopped walking for a second, placing his left hand to his head.

Where were these thoughts coming from? This was a party. This wasn't going to turn out like Founder's March, there were only CIS people here, most of them Mandragora, Rann thought. He continued walking.

Rann approached and sat down next to the man ( The Monster ) and observed his drink.

"I'll have one. A double shot, please." Rann motioned towards the glass.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, and smiled softly at the corner of his mouth, passing him the drink.


Rann took it and immediately lifted it to his mouth with his robotic hand to down the whole drink in a single gulp. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue Rann realized his mistake. Half the glass was emptied into his mouth and he gagged and coughed, spilling much of the remainder and setting the glass down, struggling to keep the drink down. He placed his left hand on his mouth, he swallowed it and squeezed his eyes shut, an exacerbated sigh came out of his mouth and he shook his head wildly. He kept his eyes down on his glass, looking at the almost empty drink. He shrugged, and raised the remainder of the drink to his lips, sipping it.

He looked back up at the bartender whose smile was wider now.

"This stuff doesn't mess around. Yeah keep them coming."

He turned to look at the man next to him. He struggled to focus on the man. His Force connection was still reeling from the battle, and he was unable to sense the man. But, remembering that their drinks were the same and that this drink sucked. Not something your average drinker would order, he thought.

"Gotta be just a little beat up mentally to order this drink, I think. Unless it was completely at random."

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

None of the Initiates Pom had taught had come forward as of yet, but it is a big place and the night is still young. She thought it a shame however, as she is curious to learn how far they had progressed each in their individual focus. Often times she would anonymously send original journals she had acquired to the library here after she had studied them and transferred their knowledge, knowing they would do good being more available to the masses. The Gerent of Dathomir has taken students on there and hadn't forgotten her extended family.

The Nightsister shielded her newborn from the looming spirits which sought to possess him. Little by little Pom released him from her protection until she saw him begin to frown. As the new mother placed her hand upon his back, she helped him learn by her example how to push back the intrusive spirits. Again he settled and closed his eyes. Pom remained vigilant of his state, and she smiled lightly, sensing him take control of his surroundings. She loved the connection she felt with her son.

She taught him many things in this manner, that he should easily develop these foundation skills to be burned into his instinct. It was a curious thing however, figuring out how to teach him, when such skills as slowing one's heart rate to avoid toxicity, or to reach out and draw an object within reach were natural abilities not much goes into performing. She had to teach some of these base skills to her students who are new to realize their gift. Luckily it sparked her to seek understanding, to break down the complete action and relay it to others. Such devotion has indeed taught this Nightsister alot.

She felt something here to be off however. The spirit she always taunted as Mom hadn't approached. There existed a cloud of misery hanging in the air. Pom felt her sister nearby and waited right where she planted, knowing she is hosting, and would come around when she finds time. For now she covered the tiny head of Master Gaius Kyrel under a soft blanket, and waited patiently to reveal him.

 

[Shalita Verd]

SOCIAL?​

Equipment: Outfit | Taozin Amulet | Hidden Wrist Blade | Obsidian Lightsaber | Generic Throwing Knives
Tags: Vytal Noctura | Haven | The Monster | Rann Thress | Telula Vale | Pom Stych Tivé | Nimue | Aries Creed | Julra Repraj | @Whomever else I missed

Shalita hadn’t been back to Ryloth since she had to drag Metus’s butt out of harm’s way and onto an evacuation ship. The woman had seen the ritual that had been done to summon the spirits of the dead. It raised them from their slumber to help try to repair the dome as best as they could, while the rest of the Confederacy members evacuated the rest of Ryloth’s citizens and themselves. Destruction had been something that had been felt all across the entire planet and although chaos had reigned that day, there was a silver lining. Like fire that burned across a planet, it destroyed the old, to bring in change, to bring in new growth. Growth which could be rebuilt and facilitate change within a civilization. Grief and loss was always the stepping stones that led to new things. Change always came at a cost and Ryloth had paid for it in fire and blood.

Gloved hands rose only to slide into her coat pockets for a moment, as she lingered upon the outskirts of the group amongst the shadows where the fire barely reached. From time to time, the golden glow would flicker bright enough to dapple across her darkly dressed figure. To say that the pale woman was used to the shadows was an understatement. At times, people would often wonder as to where she was and deemed her as missing, when in fact she was just elsewhere in the universe doing what she did best. Developing different covers for future use. It usually took time and although when she disappeared to do this, the woman wouldn’t tell anyone else. Why? Well it was simple. She wanted to keep all aliases off any kind of database.

The less people who knew about them the better. Including her own faction. It meant even if her own people were tortured, no one would know about where she was or who she was undercover as.

Slowly, she lifted her arms to cross over her chest as she took in those that had dared to venture out to attend this lively event. Most of them she didn’t even know and that was because perhaps she didn’t interact with many people within the faction very often. However, she did recognize Vytal, who was probably the only one she knew as she watched the others with quiet contemplation. She began to actually wonder as to why she was here. There was no need for her to really bond with anyone, except to simply put her skills to use, to ‘spy' upon them. Although more like eavesdrop upon conversations to stay up to date on the current faction day to day. She listened to the spirits as they whispered, but the woman simply filtered them out for the moment as she watched from her position just inside the protective barrier; watched the living as they set about their activities. The woman watched the others group up with other people that they knew and sometimes others would approach those that they didn't know and Shalita noticed those that simply lingered around the fire, or partook in the dancing.

As a server passed by, a gloved hand reached out to grasp them by their shoulder, to stop their forward movement and she grabbed a goblet of whatever alcohol they were serving. ”If at all possible, you should really fetch me a bottle of this.” The woman said as she lightly tipped the goblet from side to side so then the server would know what she was talking about.

Pausing long enough to sniff at the liquid, she lifted it to her lips to take a sip and the hand that rested upon the server’s shoulder, dropped back to her side as she took a step back to her original position. Old habits died hard, this one being that she was used to lingering on the outskirts. Used to scoping out the exits. Used to simply being the observer in many situations that was unknown to her. For now, she had the time to simply waste before she would even begin to think about moving on to her next little project. The assassin lifted the goblet to her lips once more and listened to those within the circle while quietly contemplating her next moves. While Metus was her brother and often considered her missing due to her lack of appearance, she just had never truly found a reason to stay and linger within the confines of social settings.

Work was all that she truly knew and drinking was the only time that she ever simply relaxed. Not that drinking would actually get her drunk anymore, it was more or less just a simple way to pass the time..

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal gazed into the man's eyes as he expressed both his gratitude and reservation. "Genetics?" Ah, yes, the 'biological sciences' of offworlders. The Nightmother did not fully understand it being from Dathomir, but it was one of many things she had read about. Something to do with 'code' within one's physical body. While she did not grasp how this was, it was not so difficult to imagine that a larger whole was made of far smaller pieces. How far this went, however, intrigued her; and the Witch expected it would come down to the energy so many called 'the Force' when it was likely the spiritual energies that made up more than just the physical world. "The spirits know the children of those that commune with them, Vanir, and I listen to the spirits. For I am the Nightmother of the Mandragora."

"One of our Sisters or Brothers could perform this blood test, if you wish. There are those among us that understand these things, or trusted allies we can rely upon for their discretion." Though Vanir might be right about Vytal herself not providing the comparative sample. The less exposed she was the safer the secrets she held.

As she led the way toward Pom, Vytal smiled back at Vanir Eris . "It is wise to know when to listen, and when not to listen. Many have a siren's call in knowing your deepest desires. You are not so alone as you believe in the dark places of the world." Even if a Witch could not excise such secrets due to a spirit's stubbornness, it did not preclude the spirits themselves from using those secrets. At times that was why they did not share their knowledge with others. They had agendas for better or worse of the Living like anything else.

Shamira Karuto 's wave off to the side caught a green eye. Vytal smiled for one of those that studier far harder than was necessary. A wave of greeting and then invitation followed.

There also seemed a young Witch ( Telula Vale ) that had taken root with a beast as well. Vytal wondered why so many seemed intent on standing or sitting with too much time on their hands.

With a touch at the front of her throat, the Nightmother projected her voice out from the towering bonfire at the center of the gathering, "Sisters. Brothers. Honored Guests," as some not normally of their number were known to her. "This evening is for you. A time to release your burdens and let go the barriers that might keep you isolated and apart from those who hearts beat as yours do, and whose passions are as yours are. Come, join one another in dance and song. Speak to one another, and to the spirits among you. Tonight they will hear you, but in sacred tradition shall never speak of that which you utter here again. Let the world tend to itself for one night, and celebrate one another."

Tag: Haven | The Monster | Rann Thress | Telula Vale | Nimue | Aries Creed | Julra Repraj | Shalita Verd | Shamira Karuto | Pom Stych Tivé | Vanir Eris |

The music picked back up with even greater energy than it had before after the Nightmother had finished speaking.

"Pom," Vytal called out as she drew near Pom Stych Tivé , "Sister!" The pale Witch held her arms open eager to embrace the woman. They had not seen one another since the celebration on Dathomir, and certainly not here on Ryloth since... Vytal was pleased to see her once more. And naturally curious of the one Pom sought to keep hidden.

 

[Vanir Eris]

It was an easy test he could perform on his ship, would hardly take any time at all. However that could wait. He paid attention to who her gaze fell upon and who waved. Faces of people he would probably soon interact with or may in the future.

When she greeted her sister he hung back a respectful distance. He watched the fire giving them as much privacy as he could till their private moment changed.

You could have kin here too child, if you chose…

And there she was again, the gentle shade from before.

Not blood kin, true, but blood is a trivial thing that as you’ve seen, some don’t honor.

He sighed softly and looked back at the two women. Hadn’t the Matron herself said something along those lines? And yet. Old wounds and binding oaths held him back. He doubted any of these people knew of or cared about the Lupo. Of course, once knowing of them might become allies perhaps. It was a thing to consider, especially as he had stood on his own without anyone to whom he could talk to. It was in his purview to make alliances with his clan, he just had to be careful.

Perhaps in time you may even trust enough to allow me to watch over you.
“I don’t even know your name…”
I’ve always let those that call to me choose one for me.
“I see…”

He wasn’t going to decide to speak names or accept invitations, not yet. He didn’t know enough about these spirits or their people to feel comfortable making a decision. Which seemed to be the right decision, so far.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Aries Creed]

For the most part Aries could not comprehend Nimue's devotion to her deity. It spoke against most of the things he believed. Yet. in some ways it did not. The thought that there were beings who existed to act as guides to the Force did not contradict the root beliefs that his family had instilled him with. Yet, the witches and the Silma held such a mysticism to it that there was little surprise it was difficult for him to swallow. He didn't give her words a rebuttal. He was content with listening to Nimue as she explained it to him. When Nimue revealed the back of her neck, Aries gazed at the markings that covered her and defined her in ways no other person would ever understand. His hand rose, pressing into the skin softly as he looked to the brands with interest. "The Silma gave you these." He said, more of a deceleration than a question.

He withdrew his hand as her silver strands fell back into place.

His eyes drew to hers for a moment as he considered what she said about the light and dark. It made sense, enough sense at least for him to agree. When she asked her question he shook his head. "My father. Not...not the one in this time though. He's different than I remember. In the future he's a different man. More quiet, more powerful, and a bit less of a temper from what I've seen lately." He remarked.

He didn't care to wonder why Nimue asked her question, instead he spoke plainly. "My father kept the Silma in tact because he saw some value in their magik. I'm not sure if he actually cares to learn but maybe I can." He shrugged as he spoke.

It seemed Aries was a bit more open minded than his father, especially in the realm of the Force. He was strong in the Dark Side of the Force and even skilled with his lightsaber, but he had only just begun his hunt for power. What could it mean if he found another path to power? One different than most others sought out. "You'll teach me." He said, looking to Nimue with an expression of mild interest. "If you're going to be traveling with me, you may as well show me what the Silma have to teach."

Nimue

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal smiled before she looked over at Vanir once more. More to the point, she regarded the spirit that seemed to prefer his company. A tempting and generous offer seemingly benign -- after all, how could 'help' or 'protection' ever be a bad thing? Only Nightsisters had their own thoughts of this matter, and it was not that so many championed (often for their own benefit). The Nightmother wondered what manner of watching the spirit sought to offer someone so new to their kind. It was something she would need to watch, herself, quite closely. Not everything was as it seemed when it came to spirits.

Spirits. Ghosts. Some once drew breath while others never have. Those once of our world, new to death and refusing to rejoin the Source, can reappear much as they once were. As more time passes, however, our...vision of them becomes clouded. They do not age. They do not suffer ravages of time. But they do not travel with us as a friend or a loved one does, their hand in yours. You see them from a growing distance. Fortunately, the Living do not tarry long so our perception of the spirits rarely changes. However, the Nightmother's telepathic voice paused for a second, you cannot always take a spirit's word at face value. For the 'older' they become, the less they reflect who they once were. What seemed so clear before is now changed; as we are to them.

Your first lesson is this: never accept an offer for a spirit to join with you, become one with you, or to possess you. Always consider the phrasing the spirit uses, and query them as to their purpose. Words hold great value in communing with them. They will not lie, but they will not always tell the truth. Even while she was occupied with her Sister, the Nightmother would not leave Vanir Eris to be bereft of company.


Meanwhile, across the way, a cloud of dark smoke poured from the fire and began to grow in height until it took on a humanoid figure. The smoke soon flowed from the skin of this ethereal being until it faded and left a pale woman in its wake. Another Vytal Noctura whose bright green eyes beheld Nimue and Aries Creed . She smiled and crossed over to them, hands extended outward with the palms toward the sky. "High Priestess of the Silma. You grace us with your presence this evening. No dark sacraments to perform this evening? Or have you come to show the Sisters your Ways?" The Nightmother's tone was warm and in no great hurry. There was no animosity to be had. After all, they were all women searching for truths of their existence.


Another spectral form slipped from the flames. This one's course took her through the dancing crowd and toward a young woman, Telula Vale , and her hound. The pale Witch smile as she approached. "Now why is it that all of my Daughters seem content to find the most reclusive place to sit when there is music and dance to be had?" Of course there were many that were talking, drinking, and dancing all around. That did not mean Vytal was barring from a little embellishment. "Have you met Shamira Karuto or Julra Repraj yet? You're not the only one that secludes their self more than someone of your radiance or potential should. You deny the spirits and your Sisters your presence, and we're all the poorer for it."


A third, and final, visage formed from the void not far from where Haven stood before the fire. "Do you hear the call of the spirits? They eagerly await all that seek to learn and to grow. Your potential is only limited by your preconceptions -- who you are, who you can be, and what you can accomplish in this world. Have you come to learn to surpass these things? Have you come to dance in the arms of the Eternal?" Bright green eyes aglow with energy observed the man from where she stood behind and to one side of Haven.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Even the spirits hadn't leaked word of the birth of her child? Pom felt a sense of satisfaction to know the spirits linked to Dathomir weren't so chatty this far across the galaxy. The Nether had other focusses as of late with all the recent inductees from the many scattered wars, she supposed. She smiled from her seat and greeted Vytal Noctura as she approached along with Vanir Eris . The Mistress nodded towards him. Years ago she would never have even regarded the men, but instead challenged them. She hadn't considered just how much she has come along in the ways of accepting foreign cultures, since she left Dathomir for personal exploration. Today even she would seem like the foreigner, if her kindred who only practiced the old ways were to see here today. Luckily back on Dathomir, she doesn't have to worry much about strange men popping in on her unexpectedly.

"Your nephew, dear one," she said pulling back to show her son's expression of contentment. "Son of Ren, Kyrel Ren. One upon whom I hope you shall bestow your blessing," she added. Would this not be the most perfect night as any? She felt a sense of a lull hanging in the air here, the need for a reason to be happy. She had been far too caught up in her own recent circumstance to learn what had transpired among the Mandragora; she felt a twinge of apology for not arriving prepared.

The Mistress watched as Vytal greeted those whom Pom had never met. She thought of the old phrase how one just couldn't come home again, but realized that this never truly was home after all. No place ever fit her just right. Home, for this Mistress, has always been and ever shall be Dathomir! How Vytal has settled into so many roles and into this land, evolved into who she wants to be alongside those whom she loves. There was a time in her life when Pom never could have imagined she and her sister would ever go their separate ways, leading different lives.

 

[Vanir Eris]

And so once again his cautious nature proved to be right again. He bowed his head respectfully to the Nightmother and her sister whom acknowledged him. His reply was as respectful in manner as his voiced words, he did not know that she could hear what was said to him from the shade. --She suggested in time I might trust her to watch over me. I have not decided, I know too little to judge. She also said that I may give her a name that this is something all those who call to her do. Even were I experienced, any spirit seeking to make of me a vessel would have more than just myself to contend with.--

He was more than just himself and his other half was territorial, but rightfully so. He was not willing to give a single inch to something they both did not trust.

He turned to watch the other images of herself come from the fire and internally wondered if there was a distance to such an ability. He didn’t gawk or show much awe, but he certainly was somewhat impressed.

Ignore that weak one, feed us
Feed us! Feed us!
Choose us!
We can give you power!
Blood! Give us blood!

He brought his hand to his nose as something rancid seemed to fill the air. Nausea filled him again and by luck he managed to stay standing, but he coughed almost outright gagging.

It was like he was caught in a miasma, nothing he or Eris could really attack or drive off, but it strangled every bit of air. He could breathe, he wasn’t quite choking, but it was so unpleasant to his nose and disorienting. Just as suddenly as it had come it was whisked away, but it left him shaking and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He looked over at Vytal, his mind-voice a whisper. --Please tell me that this will get easier to deal with with training?--

The cut off from the shades and their assault was a purely instinctive defense against the attack. He wasn’t in control and he struggled to understand what was the trigger to controlling the door that he just opened and closed at random. This was part of the problem, it would close and then as he relaxed would open again and then he would suffer for it. He treated it as if it was a thing that he was given only the how to unlock, but control was his to figure out.

While he didn’t expect help, he asked in case she felt willing to give it, but also started to puzzle it out for himself. He was so used to finding his own way to accomplish what he needed that asking for help was mostly an afterthought. It didn’t immediately occur to him he could ask and receive it. More to the point, he treated it as if he was being tested because he very well may be.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal smiled at Pom as her Sister introduced her child. Her green gaze fell to the young one revealed once more to the night. Whether the spirits had whispered of this coming or not, the pale Witch found this turn quite shocking all the same. How many secrets had been passed to a Witch only for the truly breadth or power to be felt once made manifest? There was knowing a thing, and seeing a thing, and now Vytal found herself before the son of Kyrel Ren.

The name hadn't altered the countenance of the Nightmother one bit, nor stilled her movements as she peered into the little one's eyes. Lineage may play a part to a great many things, and at times the sins of the parents truly did matter as they could carry to one's child. Nevertheless, the Nightmother saw an innocent youth before her now and there no harm wishing him a path to understanding that all should seek, and to be free of the shackles of the galaxy.

With a tuft of green flame, a large black feather appeared in Vytal's hand. Small charms and tokens adorned it, secured to the fine vanes by some imperceptible means. A subtle wave passed over and before the child. "The spirits protect you until you have found your Path. The spirits guide you along the Way. The spirits grant you the wisdom of the Ages. May you grow in spirit as you do in body and mind equal in measure, and more, to that in your Mother's eye."

Her smile afterward was as much in pleasant expectation for the child as it was in mirth from Vanir's thoughts.

Easier? Yes. And more difficult. A Witch did not always speak plainly, but then they did not deal in plain matters. The Mandragora can aid you in this.

Hopefully some spirits that 'pestered' the man were true, however. There were those happy to serve and protect. Though there were many others that would gladly steal someone's body or exchange power for deprave acts. If you had been dead for centuries you would seek out entertainment in whatever form you could as well.

Tag: Pom Stych Tivé | Vanir Eris

 

[The Monster]

Location: Nightlands festival
Objective: For the first time in almost 4 years, try to relax
Wearing: This
OOC note: He hasn't fully healed from damage during the battle, so his body is pretty scarred up.
Tags: Vytal Noctura , Rann Thress , Vanir Eris , Open
​

Sergei was about to take another sip, when another man would sit next to him at the bar, and then had the gumption to order what he was drinking, which Sergei thought he must know what he was getting. At least he thought that until the moment the man started sputtering and coughing up the drink and he had to stifle a laugh. And then he heard the man speak to him.

"Gotta be just a little beat up mentally to order this drink, I think. Unless it was completely at random."

Sergei raised an eyebrow to the boy next to him, and spoke dryly.

"I don't think we know each other well enough to be making assumptions like that friend. It was however a completely random choice,"

The bartender would keep managing the bar however and would motion for Sergei to continue. Sergei would take a sip of the strong liquor and start speaking again.

"I was in orbit when the attack happened. My people were under contract with the defense forces to help security for the celebration, you know, security details and making sure that nothing major happened on the ground. And that's when those cowards jumped into system. We saw a threat. A threat that the CDF couldn't respond to yet because they didn't have the authority nor did they want to plunge the entire system into a war. And this threat once it would be in range of planetary defenses would have already destroyed the surface. I.... I asked my captain if there was a chance we could head them off," Sergei paused as he spoke, the memories starting to come back.

"And that's when the bravest man I'd ever met, told me that we not only could, but had to. So our ship cut ties with the CDF and raced out to intercept this ship, these monsters. And that's exactly what all they were, either cowards or monsters for condoning the glassing of a planet, or doing nothing to stop them. I was prepared to die. I was prepared to sacrifice everything for the cause of saving as many as I could. And then he took that away, and spared me. Sent my men and I to the ground to help rally the defense. He took the responsibility of the ship and her crew. And while they would succeed in saving the planet, and stopping the madness, they had to give their lives to make it happen. And with everything that happened, I have no home, two hundred of my brothers and sisters are dead and I can't even bury them, and what remains of everything I've ever done is being scattered to the winds. For the first time in eight or nine years now, I have no mission, no grand fight or battle to prepare for, nothing left to do except await the powers that be to decide what they are to do with a mercenary like me,"

The bartender would pause as he waited to ensure that he'd heard Sergei correctly and finish, and then spoke.

"You were up there and then fought on the ground to save us? Your people were the ones that rammed that ship?"

Sergei nodded, taking a larger drink as he waited for the bartender to finish.

"I heard about what had happened, and I even saw the explosion from here. What your people did was extremely brave, what everyone did was. And while I cannot pretend to know your pain, I can understand the why. If nowhere else on Ryloth will offer you shelter and provisions, which I highly doubt, you are welcome here. Mercenary or not you fought for the people, our people, and we owe you a debt that can never be repaid,"

Sergei was starting to have flashbacks to all the times he should have died. All of the moments he'd looked death in the face and had some how won. His first battle with the Republic, stopping the cult on Byss, the outbreak on Atrisia, all of the battles where he'd been face to face with utter annihilation. And yet, even when he lost everything else, he was alive. A literal undead Sith Spawn had stood before him and when they should have ran, Sergei had attacked. And he'd won. He was still standing, despite all around him dying, he lived. Regardless of what he did to throw himself into the jaws of death, it forsake him. And this last time Clark had taken the decision away from him. If his will had been weaker, his body would have been shaking in a mixture of rage and grief. Instead the only thing that would be visibly noticeable about him was his left hand's fingers would start twitching and shaking. And Sergei had enough alcohol in him already that his judgement was becoming a little clouded. The cinnamon flavored alcohol was even starting to taste good.

 

[Nimue]

L O C A T I O N | The Gathering
W E A R I N G | [x]
Aries Creed | Vytal Noctura | Pom Stych Tivé ​

“The Silmä, in specific the old high priestess before me, and the Oracle gave me these.” She responded simply in regard to her scars. It was not a matter she was willing to contest. If he chose to have her remain by his side, he would see in time that she spoke the truth.​

Nimue nodded as he answered her question. They had yet to delve into the specifics of his past. She knew only what the oracle allowed her to see. Prying the information from Aries, thus far, had been like prying a coin from the hands of a hutt. Impossible. But over the past few weeks she had gathered enough to know the bones of his past. “That is where both of your fathers fall short. He strives for knowledge he thinks will make him powerful, as most powerful people we’re aware of have done and will continue to do till time itself collapses. What they forget is that all knowledge, no matter the subject, can only serve to strengthen us.”​

She paused briefly, to allow a roar of brightly coloured flame to settle. “He could have been a valued member of the Silmä.” Nimue spoke of Adron. “A seer to rival even myself, if he’d bothered himself to learn of our ways.” ​

As he spoke his next words, she shifted slightly in her seat to shoot the prince a bemused glance. Perhaps he was less like his father than she had first assumed. “That is a most amusing way of requesting something from me, Aries.” Nimue rose from her seat, sweeping invisible particles of dust from the immaculate raven silks that encased her body. “But I will teach you nonetheless, and perhaps we can help you succeed where your father fails.” Her hand stretched out through the smoke billowing from the fire, offering itself to Aires. “Come. The Nightmother is waiting.”​

Nimue swayed across the gathering, ironically in time to the heavy beat of the drum that stirred the other sisters into a frenzy. It came as no surprise to her that the Nightmother would be busy on a night such as this, but it made no difference to Nimue. Truthfully it was a pleasant break, visiting a world and not feeling rushed to return to the Silmä. No matter how long it took for them to snag the chance to talk, for once, Nimue found she had the patience. “I believe we should discuss your interesting arrival with her. She may have an insight that we have failed to see.” It wasn’t a question, or an open discussion. At least, not the way she phrased it.​

They wound through the writhing bodies, Nimue’s fingers entangling through Aries’ impossibly so as not to lose him in the crowd. When they finally reached the Nightmother, the words she shared cracked a genuine, albeit small, smile on the high priestess’ face. “The only pleasure to be had here is mine, Nightmother Vytal. I cannot remember the last time the Silmä and the Mandragora stood together.” Shaking her head in response to both of her questions, Nimue continued. “Dark sacraments and rituals have been placed aside for the meanwhile, and I fear I would only steal your brood if I ventured to display the power of the Silmä.” They were cocky words, but they were spoken in a teasing tone. Both the Mandragora and the Silmä were powerful in their own right. Trying to compare the two would have been like trying to compare wine and liquor.​

“Though I have no specific reason to give you for my surprise visit, I do have a rather curious situation I’m sure you’d be interested to-...” They were joined by a woman with raven hair, clutching a new born babe in her arms. Another witch, powerful in her own right. Nimue did not recognize her, but she offered her a somewhat friendly smile in greeting. At this point, the high priestess took a step back. The conversation did not require her input, but she was curious enough to stay and listen. After all, now she was here she might as well stay true to what she had said on the ship. Diplomatic relationships included all witches, not just the ones the Silmä already knew of.​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Mistress Pom Stych Tivé smiled as Vytal Noctura bestowed the blessing upon her young one, believing wholeheartedly in the ceremonies of the ancient ancestors, and the necessity of declaring such before the spirits that guide and the demons alike which lure and besiege the hearts of mankind with their lustful ambitions. Her little one locked eyes with the Nightmother all the while during her delivery.

Pom stood amidst the group of Mandragora, before Haven, Telula Vale , Nimue , Aries Creed , Julra Repraj , Shalita Verd , Shamira Karuto , and Vanir Eris who had gathered near Vytal. "Please come to Dathomir and celebrate the newly founded peace pact we have." Pom's Coven never raised a voice nor a hand against the rule of the Sith who eradicated the Mandalorian scourge and established their garrison upon the planet. During the uprising the Emperor had reached out and promised peace. "Magick was born there."

The Nightsister always felt the establishment of the Coven supersedes the preference for Faction or even alignment. Those she knew stretched all across the galaxy, and had the same makeup as found among the Mandragora. The Light and Dark study together without clashing. She hadn't before been open to such wild and new-age ideals as are those for which the Mandragora stood. It wasn't until her redemption was attempted by the Winged Goddess of the Ashla that Pom underwent a change in her ideals. Her spirit learned when to soften and when to rage. Her demeanor and personality grayed significantly as she stepped up to train the youth of either alignment who came to her. She began to establish a place for them to gather and worship, after the period of uncertainty when everyone hid in exile. There is word that the Emperor shall relinquish his position and anoint a new leader. Pom knew not whether or not the contract with Emperor Carnifex would remain honored. All she can do is hope at this point.




The Monster , Rann Thress

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal laughed at a polite volume with the boast by her Vampirika Sister Nimue in the Art. "I fear not such temptation, for even your own would find color returning to their cheeks bearing witness to the rites of our Ritual Hall." Admittedly there were few 'scandalous' sacraments such as those, but it was hardly appropriate to argue which of them had the darker rituals. Besides, not all power came through acts of violence and death. Most people in the galaxy forgot such things. It was far easily to destroy than to create, after all.

It was truly pleasant to find the High Priestess of the reclusive Silma among them tonight. A shame they could not be convinced to be more closely conjoined with the Mandragora, but they were not such strangers the two could not share. The Nightmother liked learning more of their order. They had an interesting view on the division between the Living and the Dead. What more could a Sister eager to uncover the secrets of both realms want?

A short time and blessing later, the Nightmother's eyes fell upon her Sister Pom Stych Tivé as she invited them to Dathomir. "The Mandragora are open to all that seek to learn of this realm and the next, Pom. You know my thoughts of the Sith, but you also know I have not forgotten Dathomir. We welcome the chance to commune with Sisters from afar, and hope in turn they will know of others that support them across the galaxy." If the Emperor were true, and not using Pom to lure others within reach, then perhaps there could be unimpeded communion between Covens. Otherwise, they would act as they had always acted -- through the shadows and upon the currents of time itself. None could ever truly stop Witches from embracing the fathomless depths of the Unknown, and through it touching one another in a united cause.

The pale Witch stepped forward to take her Sister's hands or arms and lean in to platonically kiss her Sister in greeting. "Our Sisters are always welcome here." Vytal had never turned her back on the Nightsister of Dathomir or their beliefs. Adapted to offworlders, perhaps, but in exchange acquired access to so much that could be put to use protecting their the red world.

"Come," Vytal looked to those assembled, "rejoice! For the Night is long, but the Path need not be dark while we travel together."

With a gentle squeeze of the hands, Vytal would release Pom to mind the surprisingly well-behaved youth. Her gaze slipped over to Nimue to see if the High Priestess wished to finish what she'd begun to say, even if she would need a moment apart from the host assembled.

Tag: Aries Creed